


in this life who did you love / beneath the drifting ashes?

by scrapsofdignity (bellamy)



Category: The Queen's Thief - Megan Whalen Turner
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-19 06:55:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29746698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellamy/pseuds/scrapsofdignity
Summary: on the final night before sophos leaves attolia to take back sounis, he and helen walk together in the gardens. there's a lot to say, but most goes unsaid.
Relationships: Eddis | Helen/Sophos
Comments: 9
Kudos: 21





	1. there's blood on the eye, unlace the glove

**Author's Note:**

> title is from joanna newsom's Kingfisher, aka THE Helen/Sophos song
> 
> no beta we die like your uncle who is sounis

They walked in the queen's garden often, but never when it was as deserted as this. The moon is bright above them, and the only sound is the chirp of insects and the soft crunch of the gravel beneath their feet. They'd left the treaty celebration a little early, but Gen had started off the dancing with Attolia with a particularly extravagant display and drawn all the eyes off the two retreating sovereigns. It was kind of them, and kinder still of their attendants to scatter out of sight, once the search of the gardens had been completed. It's only the two of them, now, and if Sophos is glancing over at his companion more often than is strictly usual, it will probably go unnoticed in the relative darkness.

When Helen catches his gaze with a look, it stops Sophos's heart and starts it beating again much faster, the effect not unlike one of her smiles.

The look softens slightly as she takes his hand, and he relaxes a little as their joined hands swing between them. They'd walked some way when the heavy scent of the Daphne shrub reaches them, and Sophos inhales deeply—it was a favorite of his. Helen smiles up at him and pulls him into an alcove with a narrow bench, one of the many outdoor rooms they'd passed so far. Sophos smiles delightedly back.

"I hope you enjoy the smell as much as I do," he says.

She tilts her head, pretending to consider. "I do find it pleasant, though I thought you were more partial to the hyacinth."

Sophos, eyes closed, shakes his head vehemently at the poor joke. "Gods above, why have I ever told you anything."

Helen is laughing softly, he can hear it, and he has to open his eyes to see her. He knows his expression carries his every thought, so he's not entirely surprised when she looks away for a moment.

"We will be missed, soon," she says finally.

"Not so soon as that," Sophos says, bringing his other hand to cover hers, still entwined with his. As pleas go, it's hardly a persuasive one, but as Sophos sits so does Helen.

They're quite close, hemmed in by tall hedges, and Sophos realizes very quickly this won't help his coherency. He focuses on the little things; the cushions on the bench, the firefly blinking above them, the moonlight catching on the ornaments in her hair.

He gives up on these immediately as she draws breath to speak.

"Are you ready for your travels?"

Sophos shifts slightly, letting the moon better illuminate her expression. "No, not—that is, I had to speak with you. I still have to."

The corner of Helen's mouth is tugging up slightly, and Sophos takes heart in the gentle mockery. "About?" she asks.

He's still holding her hand. "I am," he says, "not wholly likely to succeed in my harebrained scheme, and whether that means I end up a puppet or I end up dead, I would rather speak to you now than leave what I know unsaid."

Helen's face is closing, shifting into an expression of polite attention, and Sophos reaches a hand up to brush against her cheek as a last grasp at what's slipping away.

It doesn't work entirely, but it buys him a moment. She looks surprised, briefly, then composes herself, only a sheen of an emotion he can't name still on her face.

He takes a steadying breath. "I see you. I can't be the only one that does, but I seem to be the only one you've allowed the liberty of closeness. So, I apologize for the impertinence, but I feel it's down to me to tell you that I love you: not for your masks, but for the indescribable woman beneath them. I don't expect you to echo my words; I'd be surprised if you did. I only wanted to say that whatever lies within you that you find cause to obscure, to safeguard from the eyes of others, is worth giving over to the light of day. If I return, it would be my greatest happiness to illuminate your whole self in whatever way I can. If I can't be the one to do this, then you have to let someone else try. You'll have to share the burdens you carry, because I know they are many and they are great."

He takes another breath. He'd thought about that speech often, but he'd still never been sure how she would receive it. He watches her closely now, sees the emotion shimmer until it steadies, and he catches his breath as she reaches a hand to twine around his neck, through hair just starting to grow long again.

He's stunned stupid as she pulls his head down; it's only when she kisses the corner of his mouth that he's shocked into feeling again, his whole body vibrant with energy. He lets her hand go, finally, to grasp at her waist and her back, unable to be still and moving in small circles.

She shifts up slightly, sitting on one knee, and draws him in deeper, hand tightening in his hair. Sophos gasps, and he feels her smile into the kiss. He can't find it in him to be embarrassed, even if he is certain he's blushing badly.

He nearly jumps a mile when he feels her skate a hand down his thigh, angled towards her, before grasping his wrist at her waist. She pulls it to rest on her own thigh, and leaves her hand there until Sophos starts making small circles there, too.

"Uh," he starts, lips still brushing against hers, "is this—are you—"

She laughs slightly and nuzzles into him. Sophos gasps as her lips brush his neck, and jumps a little as she bites him gently. He'd always been sensitive there, and she seemed to be picking up on that quickly. He forgets his next question as quickly as it enters his head.

His next exhale is long and hitched, but it's nothing on the gasp that forces out of him when she pulls a hand around to the collar of his shirt and tugs it open, the cool night air and her hand both grasping at his exposed collarbone.

As he gasps, his hands flex, and as he grips her thigh she moans into his neck—and gods, it feels like jumping into ice water. He's shaken by the feeling, realizing all at once that he's never wanted someone this badly before.

He drops to his knees in a motion so swift he can't remember deciding on it. In a moment, he is staring up into her eyes, hands sliding down from her thighs to grasp at her calves.

She's startled, he can see it. It sparks enough awareness in his mind to form a coherent question.

"This isn't a distraction, is it? To put me off that speech I worked so hard on?" His tone's light, but he watches her eyes carefully.

"Sophos," she says, and her voice is gentle, kind, even as he runs his hand just a little ways under her skirts, "you don't know—"

"I do know," he interrupts, insists, "I do fucking know."

He sees her crinkle her brow in doubt, sees her open her mouth to politely disagree, and his hands flex again, running in small circles like before except that this time he touches skin, grasps it, like if he can just keep hold of her she'll understand, like he can press what he feels into her skin so that it will be there within reach when she needs it.

Something works, and instead of any polite disagreements comes a singular gasp, louder than the rest and distinct in the quiet of the evening. Sophos, head tucked against her knee, groans.

She grasps his hair with one hand and her skirts with the other, lifting both up. Sophos lets himself be dragged, shivering at the sensation of the hand in his hair and thanking every god that it had grown long enough for it to be used this way.

He mouths and bites at her thighs as they're revealed, making up for the lack of light with which to study them by committing them to memory by feel alone. He notes, carefully, which touches elicit unrestrained shivers or gasps, which sensations pull her out of her head. He wants to remember this forever, no matter how the future unfolds.

When she tightens her grip on his hair again, he looks up, on his knees before an altar.

"Can I?" he asks, breathless.

At this, she laughs, and her smile is like a blow to the head. "Sophos," she says, bringing one hand around to cradle his jaw. "By all means." She leans down to kiss him once, gently, slowly, then pulls back, eyes closed.

Her legs have shifted to accommodate his presence between them already, but he readjusts her slightly before leaning in, one hand caressing tentatively as he sets his mouth on her.

He wasn't prepared for this. He'd known she was a damned tempest, overpowering and enthralling and enchanting. He should be braced for it, but he isn't—he's half-certain he'll be swept away. Each time she lifts her hips, each time she shudders and clenches around him, each time she makes a noise less restrained than the last, he feels his grip on his senses loosening, replaced by impulses that run through him like lightning strikes, guided by the iron in Helen's grip.

He doesn't remember getting his trousers open, getting a hand on himself, but he knows it must have been at her direction. He's mouthing at her, one hand clasped in hers and the other desperate on himself when his focus narrows down to her hand, tucked around his chin and pulling his face up to meet her eyes, then collapses into a soundless, sightless void.

He only realizes she's speaking when the ringing in his ears starts to fade. Soft words, spoken gently, as he understands that his head is resting on her heavily embroidered shoulder. She must be kneeling with him, then, arms bracketed around him to steady him. He still feels a little far from himself.

Her neck is there in front of him, though, and he can't keep himself from shifting to kiss it softly. He smiles to himself when he hears her chuckle, but stills when a watery inhale follows. He pulls back slowly until he's inches from her face. Darkness still shrouds them both, but enough moonlight reaches them to reflect off her tears, and Sophos balks.

"Are you—can I—Helen," he says breathlessly.

She shakes her head, giving him a smile that's a fraction of her usual. "It's nothing."

He doesn't know what it really is; he has no idea. He takes her face in his hands anyway, waiting for a moment to see how he's received. After a quirk of a smile, he presses kisses onto both her cheeks, her temple, her jaw. He straightens slightly to get his arms around her shoulders, grasping tighter when she leans into him and the tears fall freer.

"It's alright," he's mumbling, shifting to take more of her weight, "you're with me, you're alright."


	2. say, honey, i am not sorry

Standing in the library with her head tucked under Sophos's chin, warmed by his arms around her and by the midday sun streaming in, Helen can't help but think of pleasant things. Awareness skitters across the back of her mind now and again that there are many, many more important things she ought to be doing—it's even true that she has more to say to the man in her arms, so recently returned from peril. But there was something so intoxicating in displacing her burdens, and she can't tear herself away just yet.

Sophos is the first to shift, and Helen steels herself to stand upright again, to go about her business, but all he does is lean back a little to look at her face. She meets his eyes and feels her lips curve into a smile almost immediately at his faux-casual look, trying so hard not to seem inquisitive.

"What now, dearest?" she asks drily, though the use of the endearment sparks nerves within her almost immediately.

She needn't have worried; he breaks into his ridiculous grin instantly. He kisses her temple and pulls back again, still smiling.

"I was only thinking," he says after a long moment during which Helen was certain he'd lost his train of thought, and thrilled at it. He's sobered a little now, though, so she refocuses her attention. "You've known about all this for so long."

Helen's heart skips a beat, disappointment swelling up and choking her. "I couldn't—Sophos, I can't—"

He's already shaking his head. "No, no, I didn't mean that, I didn't mean to say you should have told me." He lays a hand on the side of her head, fingers shifting her curls gently. "I think we've said all we need to say about truths and revelations. No, I only meant to say that next time, I don't want you to have to bear it alone."

Helen's heart had settled the moment he'd touched her cheek, and it was soaring now. "What an offer," she says.

He huffs a laugh. "I mean it. We can't have you bottling things up, not when I'm so desperate to hear your opinion on absolutely everything."

Helen's beaming now, she knows it. "Not now, though," she says, standing on her tiptoes to kiss him and just barely reaching. She reaches behind her to grasp a table and hops up onto it, legs dangling. "Now you can fuck me."

And, by all the gods, it was all worth it to see that particular expression on his face, caught between dumbstruck and awed. She laughs, loudly, and that seems to shake him out of it.

"Lock the door though, will you?" she asks, and he hurries over and back, knocking into tables and bookshelves all the way.

When he's back in arms reach, she tugs him closer, locking her knees around his thighs and pulling him down into a kiss. The table's high enough that he doesn't have to bend much, and it's not long before he's running his hands over her again. She doesn't have to encourage him, this time, to touch her thighs; he's learned that well enough.

There are still far too many skirts in the way, though, and she pulls them aside none-too-gently, locking her legs more firmly around Sophos. While she's at it, she slides a hand under his fine linen shirt, as she had been considering doing all day, and grasps at the warm skin beneath.

He breaks the kiss with a gasp, moving quickly to mouth at her neck instead as she continues her explorations.

She's getting more distracted by his hands on her waist and his mouth at the curve of her shoulder, so when she hears a strangled gasp, it takes her a moment to realize he's stock-still. She opens her eyes tentatively and nearly cackles again to see his gaze fixed on her thighs, now nearly free of their skirts. He must not have seen her tattoos there before, she realizes, and tilts her head at him teasingly.

"Help me, will you?" she invites, leaning to catch his gaze. She draws his hands around to the buttons and ties at the back of her dress, slides down from the table, and twists in his arms.

He's quick to catch on, and clearly motivated, because after the overdress is gone the linen dress follows quickly. She removes the underclothes herself and stands naked in the library, fixed in place by the king of Sounis's rapt gaze.

She doesn't bother trying to snap him out of it, only works to undo his trousers as she walks them backwards, where he clumsily sits on one of the reclining chairs meant for reading.

She takes a seat in his lap, and when she starts to work on the buttons of his shirt he remembers himself and starts running his hands over her again, the feeling so much more vibrant without the layers of her restricting costume.

She's only halfway through his buttons when she cries out and loses all focus, suddenly entirely preoccupied with his thumb brushing across her nipple. He looks up to meet her eye for just a moment, teasing and asking permission in the same glance. She manages to communicate something affirmative, and his mouth is on her, just as talented as before. She clutches onto his shoulders, weaves fingers into his hair—it's even longer, now, and she's elated—and ducks her head as waves of pleasure roll over her. He's humming too, breaking into a moan when she grips harder, and it's a hardship when she has to push him away, even as desperate as she is for more.

He's only confused for a moment, until she sits up on her knees a little and shifts forward. He helps line them up, then she's sinking down on him, watching his eyes flutter shut, overcome, with no small amount of pride.

This was so much better in daylight. As she begins to shift, slowly to start, she takes note of the gleam of his hair, the contrast of their thighs, the vivid red staining his cheeks. It's only them here, lit by the sun in a room where gods trod, all quiet save for their uneven breaths.

When the rhythm picks up, and Sophos's hips move up in time with hers, the details fade, but the gold of the sunlight and his hair color her ecstasy as his hand moves from her breast to her neck to pull her into a kiss, then reaches down to stroke between her legs.

She gasps and shudders against him, and feels it when he begins to get desperate, the rhythm hitching. Their kiss has long since broken, but they're still face to face, and she can't look away from his eyes as he cries out, their movement slowing.

Soon, they're just pressed against each other in stillness. Their arms are around each other, and her head is tucked under his chin in a rather more exciting echo of their earlier embrace. She can't seem to stop smiling.

"I can send for some snacks, if you'd like," she says after a long moment.

He laughs, a little manically, tucking his head down into the curve of her shoulder. She feels his smile against her skin, and takes a grateful breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> do NOT @ me about fashion accuracy. must a dress be accurately removed. is it not enough to see helen's thighs.

**Author's Note:**

> none of this was my fault i take zero responsibility


End file.
